Starless Night
by Smithers03
Summary: Waylon never grows tired of his boss, despite how he could ruin his assistant's day with a simple, hateful remark that he gave no thought to. In need of an outlet other than scotch, he turns to something he thought only teenagers do...cutting. This story is not for kids. Simpsons yaoi and self harm ahead.
1. chapter 1

Waylon spent his days doing whatever his boss, Charles Montgomery Burns, told him to.

Mr. Burns was all he ever had. His father died while he was still too young to form memories, his mother hung herself after her husband's death, and no one talked to him in his school years. He was an introvert. No friends.

And so, the only person ever there, was the one he fell deeply in love with. Mr. Burns was the only person that cared about him, despite how little.

Waylon knew he was something of a pawn to his boss. It was clear. He never paid any attention to that fact, always content to cook and serve him whenever he wanted.

Until the day he was halfway through a confession of love after both of them nearly died.

They were skydiving and the parachute had slipped off of Mr. Burns and he lost consciousness. With minimal hesitation, Waylon jumped down to save him.

He grabbed him in the air and activated his parachute. Turning in midair so that he would hit the ground instead of Burns, he landed them safely.

Waylon took advantage of Burns' state and embraced him. It was short lived, however, as Burns got up and claimed to do it all by himself.

"Oh, Smithers, do you always have to be underfoot?"

"I'm sorry, sir. If there were a less spectacular way to save your life, I..I should have found it."

Burns took off his helmet and swished his silver hair to make himself presentable. Waylon thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, staring with admiration in his eyes.

"Mr. Burns, coming down, I...I thought we weren't gonna make it. And I thought I'd never get to say something I've always wanted to. The truth is, sir, I'm in love with-"

"The sound of your own voice? Yes, well, no dogwood I, listening to the nightingale trill her unending tune! Don't take this the wrong way, but you mean nothing to me. Someone I give less thought to than the little piece of popcorn stuck in my tooth. Ooh, can you remove it?"

Smithers used a metal dental pick to remove the kernel.

"I'll see you back at the office. Don't be late!"

He sadly took off the parachute and went back to work.

After the day had ended, he sat down at his desk to write in his journal. He did this occasionally, whenever something really good or bad happened, and it was nearly full.

His brown jacket was on the back of his chair with his suspenders and bow tie. There was a previously hidden bottle of scotch that was now on his desk along with an ashtray and several cigarette butts.

He sighed and put his head in his hands. He felt like he was about to boil over. A confession he always kept to himself was shut down halfway through him saying it. That hurt, of course, but what Burns said to him felt like he had crushed his heart with a sledgehammer.

His neat handwriting was soon filling up the page, it was nothing but laments.

"My life is full of thoughts only of him. I don't know if I'm wasting my time or not anymore. I lost my faith decades ago. Never once were my prayers answered. If anything, it's all gotten worse. I want to feel something again. No other man could ever match his worth to me. I can't find anyone else, they are all inferior to him.

I feel so hopeless. The scotch isn't helping at this point and I can't afford therapy.

If I have any kind of chance to be with him more than what we ever were, I'm not sure it's within my reach."

A tear fell and stained his paper. Then another, and another, until he was laying his head in his arms on his desk and sobbing until he couldn't breathe.

He opened a drawer to get some tissues and clean himself up, but something caught his eye.

And it was something shiny.


	2. Chapter 2

_He opened a drawer to get some tissues and clean himself up, but something caught his eye._

 _And it was something shiny._

It was a small box cutter he used for opening packages for Burns and for a few other reasons, but he found a new way to use it. He slid the blade out a bit and pressed it to his upper right arm. Waylon put more pressure on the cutter and made a slice. He kept going until his arm was pouring blood and soaking into his white shirt. He didn't care, this felt good, so he kept it up. Slice after slice, he cut himself, feeling the previously warm blood sluicing down his arm.

Waylon stood after about five minutes and wiped the clots and blood off as much as he could and put his jacket back on.

He walked down to his parked car, started it, and drove home to his apartment. As soon as he stepped in, his blood-soaked shirt was put in the washer and his arm beneath a flow of water from his shower.

Waylon watched the bloodied water go down the drain and stood there, numb, waiting for the blood to get off of his skin.

When he was done he got some bandages and hydrogen peroxide from his medicine cabinet to patch up his arm.

"I really should use something instead of that box cutter, it's not clean..."

He took note of that thought and jotted it down on his grocery list for tomorrow. It was Friday, so he was off of work for the weekend now.

He felt something fluffy on his leg and looked down.

"Aww, hi Hercules,"

The tiny dog wagged his tail and licked his face. Waylon heard his belly growl.

"Oh, hungry? Come on, boy,"

He fed Hercules his canned dog food and put fresh water in his bowl. He then left to go to bed, having exhausted himself from the crying.

Waylon parked his car in the grocery store parking lot and stepped out. He locked his car and walked into the store, taking the list out of his pocket and getting everything he needed. He flipped the note over to make sure he got everything, and saw the various medical supplies and tools he wrote down. He sighed but knew he had to or else he would get an infection.

He went to the aisle full of medical supplies and got bandages, gauze, hydrogen peroxide, a scalpel, and medical tape. Waylon then went to the aisle with craft supplies and got an xacto knife, a new box cutter, and a small wooden box to put them in, then he went to the shaving aisle and got a pack of double edge razor blades.

The cashier didn't seem to notice how strange the items were and bagged them without knowing what he was going to use them for. He carried the bags out to his car, started it, and went back home.

All the groceries were put in their places, Hercules was fed and given water, and Waylon's box was now filled with his blades and medical supplies. He put the box on a shelf in his room so Hercules couldn't poke around in it and get hurt.

His phone rang.

He pulled it out of his pocket and answered.

"Hello?"

"Smithers! The housekeeper is sick and I need you to fill in for her tomorrow. The shift starts at 7:00 AM, and I'll give you 75 dollars an hour."

"Okay, sir. I'll be there."

 _75 dollars an hour?!_

He would definitely have enough money for some new blades and bandages when it was time to get some more.

 **A/N**

Hi guys. I hope you like the story so far! Yeah, I know cutting isn't good, but it's central to this story. I cut too, actually, so I can seriously relate to this.

If you want to suggest something for the story, you can message me or something.

\- Ash


	3. Chapter 3

At 6:00 AM, Waylon woke up to an angry alarm clock and a cute little fluffball begging for breakfast. He smiled sleepily and stretched. After Hercules was fed and watered, he prepared his own breakfast, then showered and got dressed in a white button-up shirt with a black apron over it and some gray pants with black shoes. He bid farewell to his canine friend and left to work for Mr. Burns, arriving there at 7:00 AM sharp to prepare his breakfast.

He pulled into the driveway and parked his car in his designated spot. He then walked into the manor, arriving in the large kitchen.

Montgomery Burns woke up to the scent of blueberry maple pancakes and freshly brewed coffee. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. He put Bobo to the unused side of his bed nice and snug before sitting up and stretching.

"Good morning, sir. I've made your favorite breakfast and got you a newspaper. Is there anything else you need before I'm off to clean?"

"No thank you, I have everything I need."

Waylon smiled and was about to leave when his boss added,

"I'm surprised, Smithers. Even I completely forgot about your duties today, you're getting 100 dollars extra for being such a loyal lackey."

Mr. Burns got his wallet from his nightstand and gave Smithers a 100 dollar bill. He must be in a good mood today.

"Why thank you sir. I almost forgot to ask, which area of your house should I clean first? Is there anything you want specifically cleaned?"

"Hm, start with my bathroom, I'm going to take a shower after I finish reading the paper. After you've completed that task, I'd appreciate it if you dusted the main hall and the kitchen. After that, well...you could perform your regular duties until 8:00 PM, like a usual weekday."

"Alright, sir. I'll notify you once I've completed my tasks."

 _He_ _did_ _a_ _fine_ _job_ _today_. _Much_ _better_ _than_ _the_ _regular_ _maid_. _I'd_ _offer_ _him_ _an_ _opportunity_ _to_ _take_ _her_ _place_ _on_ _every_ _Saturday,_ _but_ _he_ _may_ _decline_. _Plus_... _he_ _may_ _have_ _other_ _things_ _to_ _do_. _I_ _never_ _really_ _considered_ _the_ _possibilities_ _of_ _his_ _personal_ _life_. _One_ _simply_ _has_ _to_ _wonder_ _what_ _he_ _gets_ _up_ _to_.

Mr. Burns' thoughts were interrupted by two knocks on his bathroom door.

"Sir, I've finished cleaning the kitchen, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"..yes, sit down in the parlor and have some tea with me. I want to leisure with a friend today."

Waylon smiled brightly on the other side of the door. _Maybe_ _there_ _is_ _hope_.

"Of course, sir. Shall I change my clothing?"

"Just take the apron off, I suppose. I'll be there in five minutes."

"Alright, sir."

Waylon sat in a cozy chair in the parlor while he waited. Twiddling his thumbs, he thought of his newfound hobby.

 _If_ _he_ _ever_ _found_ _out_ _about_ _that,_ _I_... _I_ _wouldn't_ _know_ _what_ _to_ _say_. _I'd_ _probably_ _faint_. _It's_ _so_ _taboo,_ _but_ _it_ _gives_ _me_ _something_ _no_ _cigarette_ _or_ _bottle_ _of_ _scotch_ _could_ _ever_ _give_. _He_ _can_ _never,_ _ever_ _see_ _my_ _arms_. _He'd_ _fire_ _me_ _on_ _the_ _spot_ _if_ _I_ _showed_ _any_ _signs_ _of_ _an_ _unhealthy_ _mind_.

He lowered his head at the negative thoughts. His mind felt awful, going to false conclusions that Mr. Burns had only buttered him up so much today so that he could fire him. For what? Why? His self image grew worse and worse until the parlor welcomed its owner, Montgomery Burns.

"Smithers, I'd like a word with you."


	4. Chapter 4

In a fresh, soft red robe, Mr. Burns sat down across Waylon. A small table with two teacups filled with pleasantly brewed chamomile tea separated the two. He took a sip, then sat back in his remarkably comfortable chair while Waylon simply stirred his own tea in a stiff posture.

Mr. Burns quirked his eyebrow at that.

"You seem nervous, Smithers. Sit back and enjoy your tea. I only want to know more about your personal life, if that's not too invasive. If you do not wish to talk about that, we can talk about something else."

"Oh, alright. What would you like to know about me?"

Mr. Burns took another sip of his chamomile.

"Well, what are your interests? Like music, or a television program."

"I've been listening to a group called The National lately, they write songs about, well..just life, I suppose. I don't watch much television, but I do enjoy reading books."

"Hm, alright. What do you do on the weekends?"

Waylon was now entirely relaxed in his chair. This is going well.

"I do common chores around my home and buy groceries. After I finish those things, I read or go to a bar to talk to some friends."

"Friends? What friends?"

He can't exactly tell Mr. Burns that all of his friends are gay and try to hook him up with other men. Not that he ever accepted the offers, but if Mr. Burns found out about his orientation he wasn't sure that he would take it so well.

"I've met a few fellows at a certain bar. I haven't spoken to them lately, I've...had a lot on my mind."

He looked down at his feet sadly. There was a brief silence.

"Is something troubling you, Waylon?"

He looked up to his boss and quickly put up his defenses. He hadn't realized how it all had gotten to him so easily.

"It's just stress, sir."

"Are you sure that's it? You looked so forlorn just now."

This was a rare side of Montgomery Burns that nobody but close friends ever saw. He was being so considerate it was overwhelming.

 _'Waylon,_ _don't_ _fuck_ _this_ _up_. _'_

"I just wish I had a chance to know my father. I haven't had a steady relationship in a very long time, and even when I had a wife I didn't feel anything for her. Everything I have is very, for a lack of a better word, unfulfilling. Everything except my job, really."

"Your father was an amazing man, Waylon. He cared for you unlike any father I'd ever seen before. As for relationships, I haven't found a permanent partner, either. Sometimes, you have to look past your sufferings and store them away for when you need the negativity. You see, I do that so when I need to defeat an enemy, it overwhelms them and gives you a rush of power."

"Thank you for the advice, sir, but I'm afraid I have no enemies."

"Is there anything I can do? You've been my best friend for many years, Waylon, and I want to return the favor."

"I...I don't know of anything."

"Tell me if anything comes to you. You're a dear friend to me. I know I am a stone cold bastard to everyone else in this world, but you slipped through the ranks. You may not think anyone cares for you, but I do. Please keep that in mind."

Mr. Burns put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, smiling warmly at his assistant.

Waylon looked up at him and returned the smile. Burns stood after a moment and Waylon did the same, except the former had opened his arms as an offer for a hug. Waylon gladly returned the gesture and they hugged.

Burns pulled away and put both hands on both of Waylon's shoulders.

"I'm serious, Waylon. If you ever need anything, anything at all, tell me. I know what depression does to people. I've seen it firsthand and have even dealt with it myself. I know what you feel."

After the end of his shift, he went home, got into bed, and sent Mr. Burns a text message.

 _Thank you._


	5. Chapter 5

Now a Monday, Burns and Smithers were working at the plant. There was nothing unusual- that buffoon in Sector 7G was still lazy and highly incompetent, Lenny and Carl were bickering over trivial matters, and Smithers was at his desk going through employee files and updating them as they needed.

Everything was normal until a young woman was walked in by two lawyers.

"Mr. Burns," one of the lawyers said, "This woman is going to sue you for the death of her fiancé. Your plant's reactor core gave him a fatal dose of radiation poisoning and it was due to a breach of safety requirements."

Mr. Burns tented his fingers and furrowed his right brow while staring menacingly at the three intruders.

"I was not informed of any death in my reactor core. Even though my lawyers take care of all that, I'm always notified. When was this 'death?'"

The woman spoke up, tears in her eyes. There was something off about her that Burns just couldn't put his finger on.

"Five weeks ago. We were supposed to grow old together, and now he's..he's dead. Because of you! I'm going to sue you for all you've got, Burns!"

"Is that so? Young lady, I've got over ten lawyers and they do their job to a T. I would have been told about any death that occurs in my plant."

He pressed a button on his desk that called for Smithers.

Waylon pressed and held the white button on his own desk to answer Burns' call.

"Yes, sir?"

"Smithers, please bring in all employee death records."

"Of course, sir."

Waylon opened a drawer marked "EMPLOYEE RECORDS" his filing cabinet and picked up the folder marked "DEATH RECORDS."

He brought it into Burns' office and laid in on his desk.

Burns put on some reading glasses and opened the folder, going to the latest death.

"Ms...?"

"Howard."

"Ms. Howard, the latest death recorded in these files was 9 weeks ago." He looked at Waylon.

"Smithers, when did you last update this?"

"This morning, sir."

Burns grinned and took off the glasses, setting them down on his desk and looking at the woman.

"You see, Ms. Howard, my assistant does his job just as well, if not even better than all of my lawyers combined. Unless you can prove to me in any way that your unnamed fiancé died at the hands of my reactor core, I will be releasing the hounds."

"Hounds? That's illegal! You can't just-"

"You have ten seconds to leave my office or show me his file."

One of the lawyers opened a briefcase and pulled out a file. It detailed the age, occupation, and name of her fiancé.

"Here he is. His name was Kenny Lawrence. He worked here as a safety inspector at your reactor core. Due to several safety violations, he lost his life."

Burns rolled his eyes and put the reading glasses back on. It seemed that the file was legitimate, it had every needed signature on it and looked just like a normal record.

"Smithers, what is the meaning of this?"

"I was never aware of a new employee by the name of Kenny Lawrence. I would've interviewed him before he managed to be hired."

Burns looked back at the file, then at the woman and her lawyers.

"...you three, step out of my office for a moment, I must go over this with Smithers."

One of the lawyers nodded and they left.

Burns spun his chair to face Smithers.

"You are _sure_ you never heard even once of a Kenny Lawrence?"

"Never, sir. He would've had to meet me and go through a job interview if he wanted a position here as a safety inspector. I've updated all files today, all positions for a safety inspector have been filled for the past year and a half."

Mr. Burns slammed a fist to his desk and snarled.

"That blasted woman! She's trying to sue me over a man that never even worked here! Call her back in, I'm going to make that harlot squirm!"

"Yes, sir."

Waylon furrowed his own brows. No one crosses Burns on his watch. He opened the door and beckoned them back inside.

"Ms. Howard, may I see your lawyers' licenses?"

She looked down to the right and shifted uncomfortably.

"They-"

He cut her off. Nothing like scaring the hell out of someone and not giving them a chance to change things.

"You're telling me that this _Kenny_ who never existed worked here at my plant and died? Who do you think you are? Even if he were real and truly died at my plant, you would've been trying to sue _Charles Montgomery Burns,_ and no one gets away with that!"

He stood from his chair.

"Smithers, hit this blasted woman!"

"My pleasure, sir."

Waylon raised a fist and punched her _hard_. She fell backwards from the force but the "lawyers" caught her. Blood began pouring from her mouth.

They ran to the exit, but Burns was too quick for them. He pressed a button on his desk that opened a trapdoor just in front of the exit. They all screamed as the ground got closer and closer. Burns and Smithers both grinned at the sickening _crack_ that resounded through the room.

"I'll have them unidentifiable in fifteen minutes, sir."

"Excellent."

Smithers had two hired bruisers dispose of the offending corpses accordingly and returned to Burns' office.

He approached the wooden desk and the man who sat behind it.

"I could tell she was in for your money the moment she walked in, sir. The look on her face said it all."

"I had that feeling too, Smithers. You did an excellent job of disposing of that babbling bitch."

"Such is my duty, sir."

The rest of the day passed smoothly. When it was time for everyone to leave, Waylon stayed behind to organize his desk.

After he was finished he left for home. After parking his car and entering his home, he changed his clothes and grabbed his wooden box.

Even though today was a good day, he still had the urge. It haunted his mind. The only way to get rid of it was to do as it demanded of him.

He chose to use an exacto knife on his chest. After preparing his skin and exacto knife for the cuts, he made one slice. Then another. This time, it hit the dermis. He watched with fascination as the white of his dermis filled with blood. He ended up with around 48 cuts on his chest.

The hydrogen peroxide didn't sting as he thought it would as it passed through each laceration. The bubbling soon stopped after the peroxide did its job. Waylon bandaged his chest, put everything back, and laid down to sleep.


End file.
